Razorblades
by shoxxic
Summary: No one ever said it'd be easy, they just promised it'd be worth it.


Notes: profanity, possibly OOC, pre-Lind

**Razorblades**

When he rode—even, or especially, actually, when he sliced and diced, cutting and tearing through flesh—Agito felt the commercial thrill of Air Treks raging over his every pulse. Actually, it was more than that. Every time after he vaulted in the sky and in that split-second after gravity began to work against him, there was always this slightest, shortest standstill when he was suspended in mid-air, not moving, just... just soaring.

Flying, almost.

And it felt like he was something.

But then that fleeting second would collapse, and he would spin, rush, hooks razing reality, wind pushing something fierce against him, and he would remember again.

It wasn't about him. Oh what the hell, when was it ever? It was never about him.

And he wasn't that something he'd thought himself to be. He was practically nothing.

He didn't know how he could forget, didn't know how he could've disregarded his entire life history like that in just an easy snap nanosecond. But he did, and in those stupid, flimsy instants, he'd forget how he existed—why he existed—why he _wanted_ _to_ exist.

Akito.

It should've been enough—he was enough. Akito was everything. For him, Agito would do anything.

Everything.

The wind cut harshly.

For a tool, Agito was pretty fucking selfish sometimes.

And that was him, really, just a pretty little device. An instrument that couldn't even perform sufficiently. He couldn't make Akito happy anymore, couldn't even protect him in the times that mattered, leaving his half playing pretty damsel in distress in someone else's (stronger) arms. And despite the overall Kogarasumaru victory, Behemoth had only reaffirmed his fears.

He was so fucking incompetent. So obsolete. Useless. Mediocre. Pathetic_._

It was like he just took up space.

_"Don't say that, Agito! You're you, and I'm me... and I want you here. I need you."_

Akito would say that. He _would_, and Agito would stay, just because. It was routine and a pity fest and it would be too hard to break it all off, even if he wouldn't or couldn't admit it. Still, it didn't mean that the guilt and inutility would just crumble and disintegrate. Rather, they only hardened, burdening. They became these shitty weights that were too heavy to even take off.

Agito could never forget.

Once upon a time, Agito could actually perform to secure—he used to actually really protect Akito. But that felt so long ago... when it just was the two of them and Kaito's shitty jail. Before Akito learned about slimy frogs and fucking cloudless blue skies.

He was nothing compared to Ikki, that master idiot of all idiots, through Akito's eyes—eye, actually. Even wasn't even his own. That's how Agito figured. And, as much as he hated to, Agito had to admit he really was nothing compared to him. He was nothing compared to an idiot. Like that didn't say a lot.

Sirens wailed down the main road. Footsteps vaguely echoed in the background. They were fading, distracting, and mocking.

Agito scowled, leaned against the derailed fence. Rusty crisscrossed wires that could just barely support his weight.

Kind of in the same way he couldn't support Akito anymore.

Tin cans clattered on the asphalt.

"Oh, fuck."

Agito tilted his head, largely disinterested, and matched the awkward voice with an equally uncomfortable face.

Kazu.

The pale kid was practically illuminated in the dark, but it was fitting, Agito supposed offhandedly. Kazu never really made it into the spotlight, but he was definitely something else entirely off sides when he thought no one was watching. Meek, unobtrusive little kid, in awe and jealous of his best friend. The story wasn't new.

It was something like Agito's, with slight variations.

Their eyes caught; met. Psycho ochre and gawky blue.

Agito's voice cut into the night, now totally disinterested. "What're you doing here?"

Kazu shifted uncomfortably and gestured at the fallen the soup cans. "I, uh, I was just gonna practice a bit."

Agito stared. "It's past 2 in the morning, dumbass."

Kazu reached for some cans. "You're still up and you're _younger_ than me," he tossed back.

Agito blinked. He hadn't calculated Kazu for a guy who'd make comebacks. Or bad ones at that. But bad as the insult was, he still had a point. Agito knew his body was weaker than this failure too, and that wasn't really helping when he was having a shitty night like this already.

"Mind your own fucking business." He paused before adding a "Fuck," just because he felt like it.

He waited expectantly, but Kazu did as he was told.

Agito leaned against the rusted fence again and watched Kazu gracelessly fumble with the cans and align them accordingly on the cement slab.

The gawky boy easily crisscrossed through the gaps left between the cans, gaining momentum with every little tin mold. Agito's eyes followed him. They characterized him for a jet plane for a reason, he supposed. But the kid was still lacking.

And Agito knew better than anyone else that all good things come to an end.

The cans clattered noisily—and then Kazu crashed onto the ground. The wheels on his blades still spun though, like they were just waiting for him to get up and try again.

He didn't.

Instead, he cursed, again. "Fuck..."

He looked like a fucking damsel in distress, even if he were a guy. Agito tepidly contemplated on whether he should just be nice for once in his life and offer to lend a hand or something, but it didn't even come down to that. Slowly but surely, Kazu picked himself up—a mechanism both Akito and Agito failed to ever learn.

Kazu dusted off the dirt and stretched his legs cautiously. "Seems alright," he muttered to himself.

Agito's mouth tipped up caustically. "Fucking idiot."

Kazu looked up, surprised at the acknowledged. "What?"

"You put too much pressure on your left leg," Agito yawned dismissively. "No fucking sense of balance at all. Never mind ATs, that's something you should've known from just rollerblading. Of course you fell just now. How the hell did Spitfire see something in a total amateur like you?"

Kazu blinked."Oh. I... I see."

Agito adopted a wary look before spitting. "Fuck, never mind. Go through it again. And don't fuck up this time."

Kazu complied awkwardly. "Right."

And sometime between acceleration and the turns, Agito studied Kazu. He was so fucking determined. And for what? Just to get faster? Big shit. Agito closed his eyes for a while, but even with his eyes closed, he could see the Kogarasumaru emblem proudly slammed on the back of his jacket was dampened with sweat.

Another hour went and passed.

Kazu braked. Water beads weaved into the strands of his tousled hair, and he pulled off his trademark white beanie. He ran shaky fingers through the sweat. His eyes were bright, and it was something like seeing a totally different person. "Wow," Kazu breathed out, "Never thought I'd be saying this, but well... thanks, Agito."

Agito closed his eye. "Whatever."

There was another silence followed by the sound of knocked over tin cans.

And Kazu's voice. "You, uh, wanna go ride with me now?"

Agito looked up again, somewhat amused. "What, right now? With you?"

The other Storm Rider shrugged uneasily. "Yeah."

Glanced at his watch. "It's four in the fucking morning. Go and get some sleep."

"Can't really sleep right now, you know?"

Agito considered for a moment before bending down to tie his laces, and a sliver of the moon slanted off the metal of his razor blades. "Fine," he conceded, "Let's go."

And they went.

Agito paced with Kazu, who looked—and felt—desperate to break free and burst the miles with a speed that no one else could fathom. A speed that would jinx them all speechless. Hell, a speed that _did_ jinx them all speechless. Agito paused. He'd never thought about snatching that kind of liberty for himself.

Or, more accurately, he'd always been too scared to even think about it.

His razorblades carved at the concrete. "_Fuck_, slow down, speed freak."

It was like Kazu was already in another dimension. The Flame Road runner did the exact opposite—grabbed Agito's hand and flew.

Actually flew.

Technically, their blades were still grazing the top of the asphalt but _fuck_, the sensation was as close as it was going to get. Agito hadn't felt this sort of AT thrill in a long time. He'd almost forgot what this felt like.

And it felt good.

It wasn't a single fleeting second. It was entire minutes moving by too fast, and it... it felt so fucking amazing. His steel hooks spun around him, but never carved into anything. The wind threw something fierce, and this time it was with him, not against him. He could feel the surge of epinephrine coursing, the electricity convulsing, all that high. It was something else entirely from his Bloody Road.

He'd felt more alive than he'd ever felt.

He didn't want it to end.

Still, it did, 'cause everything in life does, and this time the aftereffects left them both jinxed speechless.

Eventually Kazu spoke up, voice cracked. "Um, that was good. Can—can you help me train tomorrow night too? Same place?"

Agito closed his eyes. The life was beginning to drain from his system. But it was only temporary—always temporary, he was beginning to realize. It always came surging back to him in the end. "Sure," he conceded nonchalantly. Paused. "Whatever."

With that, Agito turned and glided slowly back to Ikki's house. He took a breath, took in the harsh wind against him too.

Even now, even after the run had long ended, it still felt so good.

Raw. Unbelievable. Unrealistic. Like a sky-too-high dream kind of feeling.

He paused. A dream. Could it have just been that? Fake, mocking, and whimsical.

His razorblades cut into the asphalt.

Still.

He made a decision.

He didn't want to breeze with the birds or climb the clouds or however they're alliterating it these days. Fuck that. He'd live his life in the dark, like he'd always done, spinning with the clockwork circuit cosmos and steel hooks desperately grappling anything it could. Steels hooks holding on for dear life, aching for even just a sliver of existence.

After all, no one ever said living would be easy.

They just said it'd be worth it.


End file.
